


Dirty Wings

by monroe_militia



Category: Revolution (TV)
Genre: F/M, General Monroe AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2014-12-16
Packaged: 2018-02-25 10:43:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,172
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2618867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monroe_militia/pseuds/monroe_militia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>During a big fight, an explosion goes off and Charlie is knocked out. She wakes up and is surprised by who saved her and where she finds herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

From the instant that Charlie woke up, she could tell that something was definitely off. She just wasn't sure of what it was... At least not until she opened her eyes.

She ignored the pain from the burning migraine that was threatening to explode her head from the inside as she looked around, trying to figure out where she was. She was pretty sure that she knew, but she was still hoping that it was some kind of bad dream or hallucination. She needed for it to not be real. She couldn't really be back in Philadelphia, not again.

"Hello, Charlotte," came a voice from across the room.

Charlie attempted to get up, but only managed to get into a semi-sitting position before dizziness took over, black spots crossed her vision, and she had to stop moving.

As her vision cleared back up after a few seconds, she was dismayed to find that he was still there. Standing in the doorway of the over-the-top room she found herself in was none other than Sebastian Monroe, smirking over at her from within his militia uniform.

"No," she insisted, almost as a whisper before her tone became more urgent and she repeated, " _No_."

"I believe the words you're looking for are 'thank you'," he insisted with a gloating smile.

"For what?" She hissed.

She pulled back, pressing her back against the arm of the couch that she was sitting on so hard that it began to hurt, as he took a few slow and deliberate steps towards her.

"For saving your life," he insisted seriously.

Charlie let out a laugh at that. She couldn't believe how deluded he was if he thought that he was some kind of hero. There was no way that he had saved her life and, even if he had, she most definitely was not in his debt.

"I'm serious," he told her, holding her gaze with a stern glare that she was sure was intended to try to make her drop her gaze and submit. "You got hit by the blast badly. You never would have made it out of that fight if I hadn't been there... Even as it is, you were out for almost four days."

She held his gaze defiantly as she retorted sarcastically, "Right, lucky me... Now if you don't mind, I'm leaving."

She rose to her feet, not waiting or caring whether he minded or not. She made it a little over one step before the black spots returned and she found herself stopping and trying to refocus her sight.

The blurry image of him moving towards her as if he was under the impression that she was going to let him help her was the only thing that made her sit back down on the couch.

"Fine, I'm leaving as soon as I can stand up for more than thirty seconds," she informed him, refusing to back down.

"You're not leaving," he insisted. "Someone has to make sure that you don't get yourself killed. You're staying here, as my guest, indefinitely."

"Who made you responsible for me?" She spit at him angrily. "You don't give a damn about me. You only care about yourself and getting Miles back. Do you really think that he's going to be grateful and come running back to you when he finds out that you're keeping me prisoner? ...You're delusional."

"I'm keeping you safe," Monroe argued. "And that is not up for debate... But if you want anything, then all you have to do is ask, Charlotte."

She glared up at him. She felt bile rise up in her throat, but she wasn't entirely sure whether it was from his continued calling her Charlotte or if it was just because she was still far from a full recovery and had a pounding migraine.

"I want to leave," she tried, refusing to let the lack of hope that she had show in her features or tone.

"Not that," he told her sternly. "Anything else."

"Fine. Then I want _you_ to leave."

To her surprise, he didn't argue. Instead, he just turned and walked out of the room, leaving her alone.

Still, she was sure that there were guards on the other side of the door with instructions to keep her there. Even if there weren't, she wasn't in any position to make an attempt at escaping. Getting halfway across the room before passing out wasn't exactly the heroic escape plan she had in mind.

* * *

A few days passed without another sign of Monroe. Charlie felt a small sense of triumph at that.

Maybe she was still trapped in Philly with him, even though she couldn't think of a place she wanted to be any less, but at least she had managed to make him stay away from her for the time being.

She let herself wonder for a moment about whether his avoiding her was a manifestation of his guilt at forcing her to stay there, but she quickly shook that thought off. After all, it was General Monroe she was thinking of. He didn't feel guilt. If he did, then he never would have taken her prisoner in the first place. He never would have taken Danny prisoner and he never would have had countless people killed over menial crimes.

Thinking about Danny made it hurt more as she wondered whether he'd ever spent time in the same room. She wondered about how scared he had been when he'd arrived here and about what his last thoughts had been as he'd looked down at his bullet-riddled chest before she forced herself to stop thinking all together. If she was going to be stuck there with Monroe, then she was going to have to shut that off, at least part of it. She understood now how Miles had needed to lock a part of himself away because now she found herself locking away the innocent doe-eyed girl that everyone seemed to think of her as. She needed to be tough because any sign of weakness with Monroe was a risk.

A guard that had come in with her dinner the night before, a fancy meal that was a rarity since the blackout and had made her feel more guilty than anything, had caught her pacing in her room when he had come in. He must have reported that to Monroe because now that same guard was standing in her room, staring over at her, as he insisted, "General Monroe wants to see you… Now that you're feeling better, you'll be eating with him regularly."

It felt like a bad joke to Charlie, but she knew better than to resist. If she had to go, then she was going to go with a little dignity instead of being dragged.

* * *

"Why aren't you eating, Charlotte?"

Charlie glared across the table at him wordlessly.

"The guards have told me that you've had no problem eating the meals that have been sent to your room," he pointed out.

"I didn't have to look at you when meals were being sent to my room," she retorted. "Your face makes me lose my appetite."

"Just eat," he growled out in frustration. "You're only hurting yourself with your stubbornness."

"Then why do you look so angry?" She mocked.

When he didn't do anything, Charlie smirked over at him from across the table. She knew she had leverage.

She had the tiniest bit of control. Maybe she couldn't leave, but she could still, to the best of her abilities, try to ensure that he was just as miserable as she was. After all, he still wanted Miles back. And to try to get Miles back, he needed to keep her alive and relatively well. That gave her power, even if it was only a tiny amount.

* * *

It was only meal two of the new arrangement and he already looked like he was ready to crack.

Sure, he put on the facade of casual indifference as he shrugged and simply told her that she was going to regret not eating when she was hungry later. But she could see it in his rigid shoulders, and the way that he held his lips pursed together as if he were struggling to avoid a sudden outburst, that she was grating on his nerves and eventually he would snap.

"You know, Charlotte, there are plenty of people in the republic who would give anything for a meal like that," Monroe pointed out as if he was under the impression that he was making small talk and not just nagging at her.

"There are also plenty of people starving in the republic," she shot back. "And yet you had a three course meal prepared, _Sebastian_."

She hissed his name out as if it was poison on her tongue. She would have called him General, but that just seemed like an assertion of his power. Instead, she chose Sebastian instead of Monroe with the hope of irking him the way that he irked her each and every time that he insisted on calling her by her full first name.

He went silent and glared over at her.

They remained in a cold silence as he ate the rest of his meal and she debated how distracted he would have to be for her to be able to steal his knife before he could react. Although it was an inconvenience, she also felt a hint of victory at the fact that she hadn't been given a knife to eat with. That meant she was considered a threat and that at least gave her a sense that she had accomplished something with her hostility.

* * *

Charlie hadn't eaten a single thing in three days, but her delight at Monroe's reaction was well worth the pangs of hunger that ripped through her stomach at the scent of the fresh-made breakfast on the table before her.

His fist slammed down hard against the table. She flinched back a little at the harsh sound of the plates and cutlery loudly bouncing up and then clattering back down onto the table.

She quickly composed herself again as he rumbled out, "Why can't you just eat?"

"Why? Are you afraid that Miles will show up and find me starved to death, then blame you?" She questioned as a defiant smirk tugged at her lips.

"Don't make me force-feed you," he threatened. "You do not want to test me, Charlotte."

"Doesn't the president of the republic have more important things to do than try and make me eat?" She taunted in an amused tone.

He opened his mouth to make a retort, but just as he was taking a breath to prepare himself to argue, Captain Baker walked into the room and Monroe's eyes immediately focused on him as a frown formed on his lips.

"Sir, you're going to want to hear about this."

* * *

The next morning, Charlie's breakfast was brought to her room once again. At first she refused to eat a single bite, but then the smell began to drive her insane and her survival instinct took over as she began to eat.

She thought that she still had won, since she had managed to force him to go back to their old routine where she could eat alone and be as content as was possible as his prisoner, while pretending that she was anywhere else.

* * *

When two more days of all her meals coming to her room had passed, Charlie was more than a little caught by surprise when a guard showed up to escort her to breakfast with the General once again.

Charlie hadn't eaten all of the meals during the past few days, but she had eaten enough of them that she felt more than confident in her ability to go on refusing to eat in order to torment Monroe.

* * *

As he entered the room, Charlie immediately noticed that his body language was different. He almost looked like a normal person without his regular rigid posture and air of superiority. She wasn't going to be fooled that easily though, she knew that he was still the same dictator underneath.

Her curiosity began to peak when he went through the whole meal without even really acknowledging her. He had made none of his usual attempts at small talk or forcing her to eat. He had seemed more than just indifferent to whether she was eating or not. He had been completely unnoticing of it.

In return, she had held back any witty remarks and purposeful taunts.

* * *

As Charlie lay in her room, during her time between meals, she stared up at the ceiling and wondered to herself whether his stopping their meals together temporarily had really been a victory or something completely unrelated to her. If she hadn't known better, she almost would have thought that he'd been upset.

She knew that he was capable of being angry upset, she'd seen that before. But she still had a hard time believing that there was something human enough within him that he was able to be upset like that. How could someone who was completely selfish ever truly feel the sadness of some kind of loss?

And yet that was the only thing that Charlie could connect with what she had seen that morning. What she didn't understand was what that sense of loss could possibly be a result of.

The only thing that she could think of that she knew Monroe cared about enough to suffer over was Miles, but that was an explanation that she couldn't even bear to consider, so she forced herself to push those thoughts down.


	2. Chapter 2

Charlie sat in her room, staring at the butter knife that was sitting before her on top of her bed's covers. She needed to find a better hiding place for it. That was for sure.

Even if Monroe was distracted for the time being, that didn't mean that he, or someone else, couldn't realize that she had taken it at any moment. Besides, she was sure that whoever it was that regularly cleaned her room, oh so thoroughly, would definitely find it. She needed to find a better hiding spot or use it before she would lose it, but she felt a little hesitant to use it when she still wasn't sure whether something had happened to Miles or not.

She'd grabbed Monroe's knife when Captain Baker had shown up, with whatever news it was that had devastated him, after he'd left. She'd hid it in her sleeve on the way back to her room and, ever since, she'd been struggling to hide it.

She'd kept it on her at almost all times, but when the guard had come to take her to the first breakfast with Monroe in a long time, she had panicked and shoved the knife behind the mattress since she hadn't been at all confident that she'd be able to hide it on her person for the whole meal.

It was sheer luck that it had still been there when she'd gotten back and she was afraid to risk leaving it behind again. Still, she knew that having it on her was also a risk and she needed to figure out how to keep it more subtly on her person.

As she heard a guard knocking on her door, she made a snap decision and pulled on her jacket. She snatched the knife up off of the bed and stuck it up her sleeve, leaving the handle poking out just enough that she could discretely hold it in place with her hand.

* * *

As she waited for Monroe to walk into the room, Charlie remained standing. As soon as he stepped in and the doors shut behind him, she charged straight at him. She knew that she couldn't keep the knife hidden, so she was going to use it.

She didn't even manage to reach him with the knife before he had her pressed against the wall with his hand gripping her tightly by the wrist.

"Drop the knife, Charlotte," he hissed out as he stepped even closer to her and tightened his grip on her even further.

Charlie glared up at him in defiance as she clenched her jaw in anger.

"I said _drop it_ ," Bass growled out as he squeezed down on her wrist painfully tighter.

Charlie let out a pained whimper, which she quickly covered up with a snarl, before reluctantly dropping the knife. It fell to the floor with a clatter.

He loosened his hold, but didn't let go of her as he remained hovering over her, glaring down at her.

Charlie felt her heart pounding in her chest, but she resisted the urge to press herself further back against the wall and instead took a small step forward, making the space between them even smaller.

She took a second to compose herself as she stretched her body upwards in an attempt to make herself appear bigger, with the hope of hiding that she was intimidated by him.

"Where is Miles?" She demanded through gritted teeth, speaking slowly as she glared daggers at him. She was going to do everything in her power to try to intimidate him into giving her answers.

"What?" He questioned, taking the slightest half-step backwards before composing himself again.

Charlie was a bit surprised by his reaction, but didn't let it show. She wasn't going to back down until she knew whether her uncle was alright or not.

"What makes you think that I know where Miles is?" Monroe questioned.

"Don't play stupid," Charlie told him angrily. "You're obviously upset about something. All you care about is yourself and Miles. So what the hell happened to him?"

"Miles is fine," he insisted. "As far as I know."

"So then what the hell are you upset about?" She hissed out angrily.

He let out a disconcerting laugh as his expression hardened and he leaned over her to warn her, "You don't know me, Charlotte. Don't pretend to."

Charlie still felt pretty uncertain, but she did feel a little bit of relief at the idea of her uncle being okay.

Monroe took another step back from her and then bent down to pick up the knife. Charlie knew that she could take the opportunity to attack him. She wouldn't be able to kill him, that was certain, but she could at least injure him. Yet something held her back.

She remained pressed back against the wall as he took the knife with him over to the table and sat down as if it was just any other meal.

He looked up at her expectantly as he questioned, "Still refusing to eat, Charlotte?"

He was under her skin. That much was for sure, but she hated the idea that she was letting it show.

She took a deep breath, hoping to calm her nerves and racing heart rate before stepping forwards towards him. She sat down across from him and, without hesitating or breaking her glare, began to eat.

He seemed surprised by that, but said nothing.

Charlie certainly was not going to be the one to break the silence, so they went on eating in silence for the rest of the meal.

* * *

At the beginning of each meal that followed, Charlie glared across the table and asked what had Monroe upset. He always responded with a glare and an annoyed response.

One morning, when she was pressing the question especially hard, he finally snapped and demanded, "Why does my personal life interest you so much, Charlotte?"

She scowled at him for using her full first name once again before pointing out, "There's not a lot to do around here. The only entertainment I've got is trying to solve the mystery of what you could have lost that made you act almost human."

"If you want entertainment, just think of something and ask," he insisted through gritted teeth.

"Fine," Charlie responded a little too calmly. "I want my bow."

"No." He responded bluntly. "Especially after that stunt you pulled with the knife."

"You keep saying that I can have whatever I want, and yet you turn down every request I make," she pointed out angrily.

"That's because you purposely make requests you know I won't fill," he retorted.

"And you claim that you'll give me anything I want because you know there's nothing I want that you'll actually give me," she pointed out before leaning forwards over the table as a cruel smile formed on her lips. "Does it make you feel better about yourself? Does it make you feel like there's still something human left in you, pretending to be _so_ generous? …Do you think Miles is going to believe the lies that you tell yourself? Do you think he's going to _thank_ you for taking _such_ good care of me?"

He slammed his fist down on the table before demanding, "Why the hell are you so stubborn? Why can't you just be happy with what I'm giving you?"

"What you're giving me?" She repeated with a humourless laugh. "You're _insane_."

* * *

After that, they went back to their regular meal routine. Before each meal, a guard would show up to escort her to eat with Monroe. Once there, neither would mention any of the arguments or strangeness. Instead they were back to their ordinary routine.

Monroe would attempt to make small-talk. Charlie would respond with angry retorts. They never maintained anything that could be classified in a conversation without using the loosest form of the term… At least not until the night that he showed up in her room unannounced.


	3. Chapter 3

It was getting late and Charlie was just about to go to bed when Monroe appeared in her doorway with a liquor bottle in hand. It was the first time he had been in her room since she had asked him to leave after first waking up. It was also the first time that he'd seen him look so disheveled since waking up there.

"What are you doing in here?" She demanded a little nervously as she side-stepped further away from the bed that had become hers.

He wasn't headed for her or the bed though, instead he sat down on the couch that she had first fallen asleep on and set the bottle down on the table before letting his face fall into his hands.

Charlie hesitated, still standing and staring over at him.

She wasn't sure what he expected of her or why he was there. It both confused her and made her uncomfortable seeing him act this humanly.

Although she enjoyed the novelty of making him upset, she didn't like the uncertainty that came along with seeing the man who she had built up in her mind as a huge monster looking so broken.

Why had he come here, to her room of all places? For someone who had been struggling to maintain his composure around her comments at almost every meal, it sure seemed strange that he had been the one who had shown up seeking out her company.

"What's going on?" She tried once she realized that he had absolutely no intention of answering her first question. "…You came here looking for me. I think I have a right to know why you're here."

"Because you're right," he responded, his voice slightly muffled.

"What do you mean I'm right?" Charlie questioned, taking a few steps towards him.

She still remained a safe-distance away, but was close enough that she could better judge his reaction. She felt her anger rise up once again when he remained silent.

Her blood ran cold as she waited for him to clarify. She didn't want to make him too angry that she wouldn't get a response, but she needed to know whether she was right about something having happened to Miles or about something else.

"You don't get to come in here and say something like that and then not tell me what I'm right about," she argued loudly.

He brought his face out of his hands and glared up at her, although something in his eyes was betraying their usual threatening iciness.

"You were right. I lost something," he responded. "I lost someone. But not Miles."

She let out a sigh of relief that only seemed to annoy him. She shot him an apologetic look before she realized what she was doing and silently reprimanded herself.

He was the one who was trapping her there. He was the one who had barged into her room. There was no reason for her to feel bad about being insensitive towards him and there was no need to show him any weakness that could be exploited.

She told herself that and yet she still found herself feeling the slightest bit of remorse.

He took a chug out of the bottle before standing back up and looking over at her as he offered, "You want some?"

She hesitated for a moment before she decided that she could use it and took the bottle from his outstretched hand.

He hadn't brought any glasses with him, so she simply downed a swig straight from the bottle. She could feel it burning her throat on the way down, a sensation that she didn't find particularly pleasant.

As she handed the bottle back to him, she thought that he seemed like he had already had enough. There was a smell that wafted over with his breath that was very similar to one that could often be found on Miles.

"What? No more questions?" He asked her.

Now that she was faced with the possibility of actually getting her questions answered, something was stopping her. She'd gotten the answer that she wanted, that nothing had happened to Miles, and yet she still felt a strong unease.

"No," she agreed. "No questions."

She thought she understood why he was there. She was the closest thing he had to Miles. He wanted her to be his new Miles. He wanted her as his new friend.

As absurd as that thought was, she still hadn't asked him to leave. Instead, she'd just stood there, waiting for him to do something.

Even as he did move, she still remained frozen in place.

She stared up at him, without her usual hardness. Instead, she found the little hairs on her skin standing on edge as he stepped closer to her.

She took a half-step backwards, but her eyes remained locked with his and she wasn't certain whether her expression was betraying her or not.

His was betraying him and she realized with a sudden certainty that he did not want to be her friend. She had been right with her first reaction when he had entered the room. She had taken a few steps away from the bed for a reason.

Her stomach was a twisting pit of nerves and something else. Something she didn't want to label. Something that she didn't even want to think about, let alone feel.

He remained close, hovering over her, and the scent of the alcohol on his breath was even stronger so close to him as his breath hit her face.

She felt a shiver run down her spine as he slowly moved forward and, against everything that she thought she understood, didn't pull back.

His lips were practically touching hers, so close that she had to force herself not to close the distance herself, when he paused.

She remained perfectly still, as if he was a wild animal she could spook and not the monster she had grown accustomed to thinking of him as. Her heart was pounding in her chest in stark contrast with his slow, rhythmic breathing.

Her eyes slowly turned upwards until they met his and she felt her breath hitch.

One of his hands, the one that wasn't holding the scotch bottle, moved to her hip. And yet his lips still didn't touch her as she wondered to herself what kind of cruel torture this was supposed to be. And yet even that didn't snap her out of the spell she seemed to have fallen under.

His breath broke its rhythm as he let out a sigh.

He took a step back and his hand dropped from her waist as she found herself resisting the urge to step forwards and break the distance.

She didn't know what had gotten into her, but she didn't like it.

As he turned and walked out of the room without any word or gesture of explanation, all she could do was stand there trying to catch her breath.

If this was a game designed to establish power, then she was certain she had just lost.


	4. Chapter 4

Charlie didn't sleep well. By the time that the guard came in the morning to escort her to breakfast, she had gotten a whopping two hours of sleep after the almost kiss with Monroe the night before.

She wasn't sure what to expect as she stepped through the doors, but she was expecting something to be different after the night before. Whether that something she had expected was something he was going to say or a different way he was going to act, she didn't know.

What she did know was that whatever it was didn't happen.

It was just like any other damn breakfast... Or at least it started off that way.

She picked lightly at her food. Lately, she had been eating fairly regularly. She'd even gotten to a point where she barely rebelled against him anymore.

Now that concerned her. She was afraid that she was warming up to him, but that wasn't why she was merely picking at the meal in front of her.

When she had been trying to annoy him, she had felt hungry and taken pride in holding out. Now, she found herself without an appetite and with no sense of victory or achievement.

"Are we really going to do this again, Charlotte?" Monroe asked in an exasperated tone.

She debated taking a bite just to prove a point, but instead found her fuse especially short as she glared over at him and insisted, "Don't call me Charlotte."

It was the first time that she had actually called him on it. She'd made her distaste for it apparent with annoyed retorts and angry looks, but it was the first time that she'd actually told him not to call her that. After all, she hadn't wanted him calling her Charlie either. As uncomfortable as she found him calling her Charlotte, she was more uncomfortable with the idea of asking him to call her by her nickname.

He stopped eating and looked over at her thoughtfully for a moment before he finally asked, "If I stop calling you Charlotte, then you have to tone the self-pity down."

"The self-pity?" She challenged.

"The anger," he rephrased.

"You want me to play nice?" She questioned as her eyebrow shot up in disbelief.

"I want you to stop trying so damn hard to make us both miserable," he responded.

"Interesting offer," Charlie commented in a tone that didn't necessarily sound all that interested.

"Does that mean you're going to take it?"

She opened her mouth, meaning to tell him 'not necessarily', but instead she found herself asking, "Why didn't you kiss me last night?"

Although that was a question that was weighing on her mind, it was not one that she had meant to verbalize, especially so soon. She wished that she had at least worded it better.

"You want to know why I _didn't_?" He asked in surprise.

"Impulse-control isn't exactly your thing, is it?" She challenged. "You were drunk. Clearly you wanted to. So I just want to know what stopped you."

She just was hoping that he'd tell her that it was because of Miles. She needed it to be a reason that she could ignore or roll her eyes at.

"Would you have kissed me back?" He questioned.

His dodging of her question did not go unnoticed.

"I asked you first."

He ignored her and went back to eating. Charlie wasn't going to back down that easily though.

"Anything I want, right?" She challenged. "I want an answer... An answer isn't dangerous. I can't escape or kill anyone with an answer. That means you owe me it."

"You don't want to be here," he pointed out.

"Stating the obvious isn't an answer," she retorted.

"You think of yourself as a prisoner," he clarified. "If you'd kissed back, it would have been because you were afraid of me or wanted a way out... And I don't want that."

She was surprised that it even mattered to him. She had thought a trophy was a trophy to him.

Arguments with Monroe never went as she wanted. Now she found herself wanting to defend herself and argue that she wasn't afraid of him, but she couldn't because he had done it again. He always set it so that, in order to defend herself, she would have to argue in favour of him.

And so, she said nothing. Ate nothing. She just sat in a frustrated silence.

She had wanted to kiss him the night before, but not because of any of the reasons he had offered up as escapes. She thought that if one of his explanations applied that she would at least get a little peace of mind. Instead, she found herself getting increasingly confused and irritated.

It would have made sense, his reasons. It would have made sense for her to have been prepared to kiss him back because she felt she had to in her situation. It would have made sense if she had been planning on trying to manipulate him, but she hadn't been.

In fact, she didn't even truly fear him that way. She had, when he had first arrived in her room the night before, but that was just from the surprise of his presence. She still had leverage because he still wanted Miles back. He was still trying to treat her as well as he could treat a prisoner. She could have stopped him if he had tried something.

None of those thoughts has crossed her mind at the time though. If anything, her mind had been focused on the anticipation of the moment. She'd barely even drank anything, so she couldn't blame the scotch. _She_ was the problem. She was the one who had almost kissed General Monroe. She was the one who, even then, couldn't quite muster up the level of disgust at that idea that she though she ought to have.

There was something wrong with her, something that she didn't think a glimpse at his human side justified.

"Eat, Charlie," he told her, dragging her back out of her thoughts.

She moved from how she had been sitting for the last several minutes, leaned against the back of the chair with her arms crossed over her chest, then picked up a strawberry off of her plate. She bit into it, just for the sake of getting him off of her back, before she realized what he had called her.

"You stopped calling me Charlotte," she commented.

"You told me to," he pointed out.

Although chances of getting what she asked for were slim, she had to admit to herself that he did occasionally come through with that promise. She wasn't entirely sure why he had stopped though, since she was fairly certain that she had not lived up to her end of the offer he had proposed.

"Does that mean I haven't been acting angry enough?" She questioned. "Should I try harder to make us both miserable?"

"I'm not keeping you here to try to make you miserable," he pointed out.

"You're not keeping me here to protect me either," Charlie retorted. "Not really."

That sort of interaction usually ended in an impasse, but not this time.

"No," he agreed. "You're right. I want Miles back and I know he'll come looking for you. I saved you for Miles and now you're still here because of him."

His food was all but forgotten at this point and there was a little voice in the back of Charlie's head that was urging her to taunt him with 'eat your breakfast, Sebastian'. She ignored that voice though in favour of asking a question she thought was more important than getting even with him.

"What are you going to do when Miles shows up?"

A slight smirk cracked his otherwise serious expression as he told her, "The more difficult you try to be, the more I like keeping you around. Even if it is only temporary."

She didn't know what that meant and she wasn't sure that she really wanted to. She wondered why he enjoyed her trying to get on his nerves, but pushed it aside.

"I want to know what's going to happen."

"Like I said. You're temporary," he responded. "When Miles shows up, it's you're lucky day. You'll get to go."

"And what about Miles?" She asked him.

"I'll give him a reason to come back," Monroe responded with a shrug that he had intended to come off as casual.

Charlie was sure that it was anything but casual though. This was a plan she was sure that he had thought through numerous times.

"You're going to make him stay so that I can leave," she filled in the blanks. "He's going to be the new me. Your new favourite prisoner."

The worst part was that she knew Miles would do it. She'd seen him give in, willing to be a prisoner to Monroe before. She'd had to rescue him from Jeremy last time.

Still, she took a little comfort in the idea that Monroe would never truly be able to contain Miles. Besides, she had faith in Miles. She was sure that he and Nora had a plan. She was sure that they were coming to rescue her with Aaron and her mother. She just needed to hold onto the hope that they would be all be able to make it out in one piece once again.

She rose to her feet then and muttered out, "I'm not hungry."

He didn't stop her and a few minutes later, she found herself back in her room again as a guard closed the door behind her.


	5. Chapter 5

Monroe didn't come back to her room again. He didn't even make her go to meals with him anymore. Instead, against all logic, she found herself asking the guards outside her door to take her to him after a couple of nights had passed.

When she was let into his bedroom, he was standing, still mostly in his uniform. His jacket was off though and thrown over a chair.

She looked around then as curiosity took hold of her. It was plainer than most of the other rooms she had seen. It was big, but fairly simple. It seemed a little out of place from the rest of the persona he had formed there.

"You want something?" He asked expectantly.

She wasn't entirely sure what she was doing voluntarily in a room alone with him, especially his bedroom. The prickles were back along her flesh as her heart rate picked up slightly and she felt the hairs on her arms stand on end.

Why exactly was she there? There was the reason that she had told herself. The reason that was the truth, or at least a part of it, but she wasn't sure she wanted to admit it to him.

A small smile, slightly wavering, formed on her lips as she told him, "There's not a whole lot to do around here. Just try to solve pointless mysteries and wait to be 'rescued'."

"I'm not drunk enough to talk to you about who I lost, if that's what you're looking for," he responded.

"No. It's not."

"So then what are you looking for, Charlie?" He asked her.

She stood there, feeling uniquely vulnerable under his gaze, as she admitted, "I don't know."

She didn't know what she wanted or why she had come looking for him. She wasn't sure that it entirely had to do with a need for company. She thought that a part of it had to do with a desire for _his_ company.

He turned from her and headed over to a small table. This time there were glasses and he poured his drink into one, without offering her any. Apparently he thought he needed to drink for this, whether she wanted to hear about who he had lost or not.

He turned back around to face her and took a few steps towards her. He stopped a few feet from her, at what he probably considered a safe-distance, before moving to bring the glass to his lips.

Charlie moved until she was standing right in front of him and took the glass from his hand, downing it for herself as she tried her best to ignore the burning sensation on the way down.

Once again, she discovered just how much she didn't have him figured out.

For every time that she thought she was able to read him, he'd done something that had completely confused her.

Now, he was confusing her once again as he remained still. He didn't complain about her stealing his drink. He didn't try to ask her again what she was doing there. He didn't even move to pour himself a new drink or take the glass back from her. He just stood still with his eyes focused on her.

The sensation was back in full-swing. It was the feeling that she had come there because of, whether she wanted to admit it or not. She had been hoping to prove that it had been a one-time thing, an enigma, and that there wasn't really a tension between them... Or at least not one she enjoyed.

Her plan had backfired and instead she found herself moving a step even closer as she stared straight at his chest. Her gaze moved slowly upwards as she brought her empty hand up to just where his shoulders met his neck, until her eyes were locked with his once again.

Her brain screamed at her in protest and she knew that this was dangerous territory she was exploring. She pushed that down though. She was stuck there with no one else and nothing to do and for once he was actually right. She had been trying to make them both miserable and she'd been doing it because a part of her wanted to be miserable herself. She had wanted to be able to count this whole experience as awful and be able to leave with the same filling hatred for Monroe that she had arrived with.

But she didn't want to feel like that. Not anymore. She wanted to feel something better. She was going to take advantage of that electricity for the time being, while she was still there.

After all, they both knew that it would never last. They both knew that it was nothing serious. It was just a way to pass the time and someone to share a bed with until Miles came for her. That was it.

"You tell no one about this," she warned with her lips still hesitating, craving the touch of his.

His eyes flickered down to her lips and then back up to her eyes as he agreed, "Not a word."


	6. Chapter 6

Charlie fell back onto the mattress as she tried to catch her breath. She was used to Monroe sharing her bed now. At first it had been strange. She'd slept close to the edge, as far away from him as the bed had allowed.

They'd formed a routine over the last week and a half though. Now, she found herself almost comfortable in bed with him.

It was strange. His telling her what to do had bothered her so much after she had first arrived. It still did, if he tried to comment on her eating habits, but in bed it was a different story. She liked how he took control in the bedroom. That was just one more thing that she thought she should feel guilty about, but she pushed that aside for later.

There would be plenty of time for guilt and regret when she got out of there. For the time being, though, what she wanted was to worry only about the current moment and what she wanted in it.

She turned her head to look over at him with a challenging smirk as she questioned, "Round two? ...Or are you not up for it yet?"

He sat up, looking as if he was about to insist that he was always ready, but the words didn't get the chance to come out as a loud banging noise came from downstairs.

It wasn't a gun-shot, yet it had still managed to capture both of their attentions.

"What the hell does a guy have to do to get arrested around here?" A faint shout echoed up through the floor.

Charlie felt her heart rate pick up once again, but for a whole other reason, as a genuine grin formed on her lips. She had almost forgotten what it felt like to truly smile, out of real happiness, during her stay.

"Looks like it's our lucky day," she insisted as she turned back to look over at Monroe.

He wasn't as thrilled looking as she was expecting. His expression was guarded, along with his tone, as he told her, "Get dressed. You're going home."

He took his own advice and got out of bed, then quickly pulled his uniform back on, before walking out of the room without a glance back. Once he was gone, Charlie rose to her feet and moved to get dressed.

She gathered what little she had and then sat back down on what had become her bed as she waited. She wasn't sure why it was taking so long. Maybe it wasn't. Maybe it just felt that way.

Waiting quickly led to worrying.

She'd been imagining Miles coming on some great rescue mission where he would break in and get to her almost completely undetected. She was expecting something at least temporarily stealthy. She hadn't been expecting him to come in slamming doors and screaming out to try to turn himself in.

Charlie hadn't let herself really consider the possibility of getting out without Miles. At least not until that moment.

She felt sick and a sensation of dreadful anticipation was weaving its way through her insides as she stared at the door.

After what felt like an eternity, it finally opened and there he was.

"Grab your crap. I'm busting you out," Miles told her with a smirk.

Charlie stood back up, with a dopy grin spread across her lips, and grabbed her small bag before looking around the room.

"What? Don't want to forget your prison cell?" Miles challenged.

"I'm looking for a weapon," she responded.

It was true. Even though she had desperately searched the area for anything even remotely resembling a weapon infinitely many times during her first days there, she was still searching for anything that could be used as one.

"You don't need one," he insisted.

"No offense, Miles," she told him. "But you aren't good enough to break us both out of here without any weapons."

"Actually I am," he responded as he began to lead her towards her bedroom door. "Just not in the way you think... No weapons. Monroe's letting us out of here, untouched, just as long as I don't kill anyone on the way out."

"He's _what_?" Charlie questioned as she stopped dead in her tracks out of surprise.

That made no sense. She knew his plan. She'd been guessing it all along and she'd even gotten him to admit to it. If Miles had turned himself in, then Monroe had won. He had gotten everything exactly as he had wanted. So then why was he letting Miles go too?

"Come on, hurry up before he loses it again and changes his mind," Miles insisted in an annoyed tone.

"Yeah, I'm coming," she told him as she forced herself forward.

Even though Miles had told her that Monroe was letting them out untouched, it was a whole other thing actually experiencing that. It was a beyond strange feeling as they walked past numerous guards who apparently had orders just to watch them go.

* * *

When they met back up with the others, Charlie watched the look of surprise and relief that formed on all of their expressions at the sight of them together and she knew for sure that Miles had gone in with the intention of not coming back out.

As her mother pulled her into a hug and Nora told her how happy she was to see her okay, Charlie barely even noticed. She was too distracted by yet another mystery formed by Sebastian Monroe.

_The End_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love this story so there is a very good chance that there's going to be a sequel set in an AU of season 2 at some point.


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